Thanks, That Was Fun
by Luna-Kitsune-Blu
Summary: It's going to be a long day.' That's the first thing he thought when he woke up that morning. She had been waiting for him. Coffee together as always. But three little words turned his world upside-down. "I Love You..."


It had been a long day.

Erk, how could he call it that?

A lot of things in his life had been long;

Years, weeks, days, hours, minutes.

But today hadn't been long.

It had been heart breaking.

It had been frustrating.

And it had been all his fault.

He heaved a long sigh.

His forehead pressed against the cool glass.

It helped his headache.

Which was making him sick.

Everything was making him sick.

EveryONE was making him sick.

He felt out of place.

He had almost all his life.

And it was giving him a uber migraine.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He had cut losses today.

No.

He couldn't call _her_ that.

He cut TIES today.

That's how it always happened.

He'd get too close and everything would blow up in his face.

It had always been that way.

But, for some reason, he felt more detached then normal.

He felt…almost broken.

He let out a frustrated groan before twisting away from the window.

It was too dark.

It had always been too dark on this damned planet.

Five frickin moons and still he couldn't see a damn thing other then the glare from the head lights of the bus.

It made him sick.

But it wasn't his head that hurt.

No.

His head was what kept him from feeling the real pain.

The pain in his chest.

His heart ached.

It had never hurt before.

Never.

He was even called heartless.

And it was pretty damn near the truth.

Even _she_ had called him heartless.

So why did it want to remind him it was still there?

Why now?

'Today was going to be a long day.'

He had thought that the moment he woke up.

And he always had a knack for being right when he REALLY didn't want to.

_She_ had been waiting for him when he came down from his room.

Said she wanted to get some coffee with him.

The usual.

But it wasn't the usual.

"I love you."

He choked on his coffee.

She seemed almost disappointed.

"What?" He had asked.

It was a simple question.

And how he had hated the answer.

"I…I love you."

"I'm sorry."

And he had left.

He had left her there with those two little words.

No explanations.

No excuses.

Just 'sorry'.

Always just 'sorry'.

And damn, was he sorry.

It felt like he was going to die right there.

No bullet was like this.

His kingdom for a bullet wound.

His SOUL for a bullet wound.

His head found its way back to the window.

It was cool, the night air still leaking in through the glass.

It felt good.

But his heart still smashed against the prison of his rib cage.

It wanted free of his walls.

From his protection from pain.

It screamed at him, 'DIDN'T WORK THIS TIME!'

He should have listened.

If he had only listened, he wouldn't be here.

He might have been in his bed.

He might have been in her bed.

He might have been on the street.

Her street.

And he'd feel better then this.

She had followed him.

She had told him to wait for her.

To stop.

To hear her out.

He kept walking.

Always walking.

Never staying.

She had grabbed him.

Had made him look at her.

She was crying.

It made him want to cry too.

But he didn't.

He just looked down at her.

No feeling.

And she called him Heartless.

And, for once, he knew that was exactly what he was.

He was heartless.

And he couldn't change for her.

He wasn't worth it.

But she was.

So he stayed.

He listened.

And he didn't say a word.

Until she was done.

Until she had emptied her soul at his feet.

Until she had cried herself dry infront of him.

Infront of everyone.

She didn't seem to care that people saw she was weak.

But he cared.

He had whipped her face clean.

"It's…not wise to drown in other's sorrow."

And he left.

It had only taken him minutes to pack.

He left the rent on his freshly made bed.

And he left.

She was waiting for him.

She didn't seem angry.

She didn't seem sad.

She was void of all emotions.

And he was almost terrified.

"Go."

That's all she had said.

She grabbed his hand, placed something in it, and folded the hand back around it.

And she stayed there.

She waited for him to open his hand up to look at it.

Which he did.

A crumpled bus ticket.

She had given him his freedom in one little piece of paper.

She had set him free.

And, for once,

He didn't want it.

"Go," she repeated.

So he did.

He had climbed into the bus.

Had taken the last seat in the back.

And looked helplessly out the window as she stared back at him.

She didn't look like she cared.

Like she had ever cared.

But he knew she was lying.

And then he was taken away from her.

And thought he would never look back.

He couldn't see anything now.

It was too dark.

But he wanted to look back.

He wanted nothing else then to look out the window and see the town.

To see her.

To see her smile.

But she was too far gone.

And it was too dark.

It seemed almost endless.

He couldn't go back.

No matter how much he wanted to, there was no going back.

There was never going back.

You live with your mistakes and you die with them.

And he was about to die.

The Bus unloaded at the next town.

He didn't get off.

He was going to die there on the seat she had paid for him.

But instead settled for a cheap hotel bed.

He stared blankly at the ceiling.

It was all so pointless, he realized.

Everything was pointless.

Especially his love for her.

He would die.

She would die.

And one of them would be alone.

One of them would lie.

And the other would hurt.

There was no middle ground to it.

There was no way it would work.

So why did he know all that didn't matter?

She had told him to leave.

She had gotten the ticket.

She had looked him in the eye without any emotion.

And she had watched him go.

Why was it that she mattered more to him then any one on the planet?

There was only one thing to do.

He had to find out.

So he bought himself a ticket.

And stayed the night in another bus.

He sat at the front.

Looked into the dark until the town came into view.

And rushed off as soon as it stopped.

The streets were bare.

It had to be after Midnight.

He didn't care.

He had just gotten to her door.

"MILLIE!" he screamed while pounding oh her door.

She didn't answer.

"MILLIE, PLEASE!"

The sound of the door being unlocked stopped his yelling.

She blinked on seeing him there at her doorway.

"Nicholas," she breathed.

He tried to take a step in.

She started to shut the door.

"Millie! Listen to me!"

She shook her head, tears already filling her eyes,

The door closed.

He let it close.

He let a frustrated groan.

It was over.

And he knew he loved her.

He crumbled to the ground.

His heart finally broke under the pressure.

He had lost her.

And he wasn't getting her back.

His feet pulled him away from her house.

They pushed him down the alley ways.

And left him standing infront of his own door.

He pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door.

The bed was waiting for him.

He jumped onto it.

And fell into a dreamless sleep.

Morning came too soon, but he didn't get up.

His body hurt too much.

He hurt too much.

Something inside of him was gone.

The something that kept him going was gone.

And it wasn't going to come back today.

The day passed and he didn't move.

The suns set.

The moons rose.

He stared endlessly at his ceiling.

He had messed up.

He was stupid and selfish.

He was all his fault.

And there was nothing to do now but waste away.

'It's going to be a long day.'

That's the first thing he thought when his eyes opened the next morning.

He got up, his muscles aching.

Time for some coffee.

Alone.

And she had been waiting for him.


End file.
